These heaps of trinket memories Your bracelets, blushers, long delayed Tossed away in waves and flurries Rooms of trinket memories I move around in waves and flurries These lettings go so long delayed No end of trinket memories Your girl life earrings well arrayed
Blog
after lucille
i am fleeing an old year and the new year hovers like a gathering storm that puts fire to my feet like lightening like all my wild dreams make easier to imagine myself not-yet-self at sixtyfive and seventyfive and seventysix even eightyplus so i am fleeing an old year and i hope what i love … Continue reading after lucille
Underground
morning gauze hides what wants to stay hidden debris of a mother’s memory footsteps of dead fathers a seed in the forest fragrance of love astonishing blend of our killing stockpiles essential flavors travel the underground keep us alive
The Visible To Be; The Story of Hand Reading
web of secrets between pink mounds love’s cavernous criss cross life in the lines beginnings endings on the lip of every precipice outward signs tell a story we cannot trace all the way back to baby hands that reached for a face this river after storm takes what we cherish forward seaward our hands scarred … Continue reading The Visible To Be; The Story of Hand Reading
Clair de lune
I sit yards away, near her, but this moment, she's so far from me, her eyes on the page her hands moving up and down keys, black and white against the olive-green antiqued upright our father brought home for her. Already at four I know the line I cannot cross to reach her when walls … Continue reading Clair de lune
Cento (April 30)
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search, or find Further in summer than the birds In darkness and amid the many shapes Angels of rain and lightening The voice I hear this passing night was heard Said, yearn upward The whistle of the wind, it is not my voice The fly buzz, the stillness between … Continue reading Cento (April 30)
Angels At The Dock
My mother climbed a wooden fence in snow, called a cab so as not to disturb my father as he taught middle school math, and made it to the hospital in time for my birth, which remains an otherwise uneventful dream to her, given the gas dispensed and the ways babies were whisked away to … Continue reading Angels At The Dock
This House (day 28)
This house well made wood, brick foundation strong laid has sheltered many hearts baby tumbles, stairstep mumbles tantrums, and nail bitings, time outs and lights out, and sleep terrors, and math errors broken windows, rodent overthrows, bat wings lost wedding rings, dance steps, sprained necks this house is the falling down place, the get- back … Continue reading This House (day 28)
Duplex (day 27)
These rooms house ghosts and memory They whisper welcome, please remember me. Remembering, imperfectly, it seems Little mothers, tall fathers, the lights they burn at night Tall mothers, slighter fathers who read by candle light Hoe a garden - dream in poetry Dreaming poetry, garden tender Whose hands have shaped and shape of me. Whose … Continue reading Duplex (day 27)
Aquifer (day26)
As brackish water sputters from the ancient well pump, nut brown, then ocher, all the rusted line innards, heaving upwards, defying gravity, grows paler when blue stone opens the way, we celebrate the waters now, pouring clear, hard, clean, unconfined- And so are we this rosy morn, rising to greet the day, moving as we … Continue reading Aquifer (day26)
Early Morning Poems 